


Peaches & Peonies

by seb



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Angst, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Serious Discussions About Shrek, angst and fluff. we get it cole, dirk does too bitch you ain't special, john has depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-15
Updated: 2017-10-15
Packaged: 2019-01-09 09:46:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12273894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seb/pseuds/seb
Summary: His eyes are so bright, the moonlight reflecting off the water and making its way beneath those dumb, pointy shades. Orange, like tangerines and shitty medicine lollipops.▬▬▬For DirkJohn week because what fucking day does this fall under? The world will never know.





	Peaches & Peonies

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is based wholly off of raddical's amazing video [http://raddical.tumblr.com/post/163585471655/so-this-is-soft-but-it-was-for-fun-song].  
> I wish I could have done it more justice. Also, I tried to color the pesterlog text but it wasn't working out rip sorry

The sun is high in the sky, light pouring into the room, when John yanks the curtains closed. It’s midday and he’s just been woken up by some kind of bird tapping on his window- white, mussed feathers fluttering behind the glass pane. When he checks his phone, silent on his chest, the time reads two in the afternoon.

Below the digital numbers are a handful of notifications, blinding in the darkened room. John tosses his phone to the side, peeved. He thought he’d blocked all of the pitying messages from his friends. He’s fine, just tired. The game took a lot out of him- a lot out of all of them. He needs time to recuperate like everyone else. Just because he needs a little more doesn’t mean anything.

He’s just tired.

He pulls on his glasses, smudged and loose on his face. He guesses he should eat. There’s leftover pizza in the fridge… but that means going downstairs, and god is John exhausted.

His phone buzzes again. God damn it.

This time when he picks it up, he’s ready to pop a cap over whoever it is that’s bothering him. Underneath an urgent news update- _Law Passed Making Heterosexuality Illegal_ , okay, Dave- is a collection of Pesterchum notifications, all reading “New Message From timaeustestified.” Curious, he unlocks his phone.

\-- timaeusTestified [TT] began pestering ectoBiologist [EB] --

TT: Hey John.

TT: I know this may be a bit awkward, considering we’ve never really spoken to each other,

TT: But I wanted to reach out to you. For your sake and mine.

TT: Dave’s been worried about you and as I’ve been meaning to talk to you for a while, he saw my willingness to help as an opportunity. Gave me your Pesterchum.

TT: If you’re still reading, I’d like to extend an olive branch of friendship and ask,

TT: How are you doing, bro?

John pauses. Though he knows little about Dave’s alternate brother-father-thing, he’s sure this is genuine sentiment. He actually wants to know how John is doing. He’s concerned.

Which is stupid, because he’s just _tired_.

EB: hi dirk!

EB: i appreciate the concern but i’m really fine! just tired.

EB: you can tell dave i’m fine too. i could go for some pizza right now but other wise there’s nothing to worry about.

Hopefully that’ll keep him off John’s back. He feel kinds of bad wanting to… get rid of Dirk, but he’s tired of people acting like he’s some kind of animal that needs to be eased into captivity and taken care of.

He slumps back into his pillows and pulls his collar over his nose, burrowing deeper into the warmth. It’s getting cold on Earth C, something akin to winter settling over the terrain and bringing the chill out from the cracks in the earth. John’s asthma acts up whenever he spends too long on the patio and the socks he never takes off finally serve purpose as the wood flooring succumbs to the weather.

For some reason, he doesn’t let his phone slip to the side and roll back over to think about getting some food. He props it up on his chest, staring at his screen as it dims and blinks out into darkness; stares until a notification brightens it again, one “New Message From timaeusTestified” following another.

TT: Well if you’re feeling well enough, it’d be cool to get to talk to you more.

TT: This desperate longing for friendship has gone on too long, John, I must hear more from you.

John bites his lip, ignoring the sarcasm/irony/whatever Strider bullshit Dirk’s pulling, instead debating getting up and chatting away with Dirk or adding him to his block list. After a split moment of contemplation, he decides the former, and heaves his legs over the side of his bed.

EB: yeah of course man!

EB: i’ll have to get used to your shitty irony like i did dave’s but i’m down for some quality friend ship!

Instead of awaiting a response this time, John pushes himself out of bed and down the stairs. Well- he doesn’t push himself down the stairs, that would be stupid. But he makes his way down them and into the kitchen, deciding on some cereal. He pours some generic marshmallow-based, sugary concoction he must have mixed together forever ago into a bowl, following it with milk as he reads his phone, because he is _not_ a monster, thank you.

TT: My irony is not shit, John-senpai. I’m offended you’d say such a thing.

TT: And cool, I’ll see you tonight. Seven, the forests outside of Can Town. There’s a place I go to a lot where we can talk.

The milk spills over the bowl and into the sink. John swears, dropping his phone on the counter and grabbing a nearby hand-towel covered in who-knows-what to wipe up the mess. Go out? Tonight? Like this? Fuck. _Fuck_ , he made a mistake.

One hand under the faucet and the other successfully reaching his phone, John types out another message.

EB: um, wait. tonight?

EB: like, you want me to leave in four hours to go see you tonight?

TT: Way to make it weird, Egbert.

TT: I just want to talk. There’s a nice bridge on a river where we can chill.

TT: Figured it’d be nicer than a screen you’ve been staring at for days on days on days doing nothing.

TT: At least it would be for me.

Fuck, he feels guilty now. Maybe Dirk needs someone to talk to and it’s not working out with anyone else so he went to the last guy he could. Maybe John’s his only hope, obi Juan whoever the fuck you are…

EB: dude all you had to say was you need to talk.

EB: i’ll be there! just give me some time to get lost.

TT: Cool. Thanks.

TT: See you then.

EB: later!

\-- ectoBiologist [EB] ceased pestering timaeusTestified [TT] --

 

☾

 

It’s fucking freezing. There’s frost on the ground and the leaves of the trees as John makes his way to the forest. Using the backroads doesn’t help- his hair is still wet from his shower, there are practically no lights illuminating the pathways. Ugh.

But there’s the river Dirk was talking about, and, well. There’s Dirk. Bundled up in a two-layer hoodie and the same fingerless gloves John remembers him with. He’s standing by the bridge rather than on it, which honestly fucks up the cinematic quality of the moment.

“You’ve already fucked up the cinematic quality of the moment,” John says aloud, nudging his glasses up his nose with his shoulder so he doesn’t have to take his hand out of his pocket. And, consequently, almost pushing his glasses off his nose so he has to reach up and fix them.

Though he hoped the slip-up would go unseen, Dirk catches it instantaneously, and breaks out in a smile. A full-blown, crooked-toothed smile. It’s so… unexpected, John falters, blinking away his shock and dropping his hand down to his waist. It took years to get a smile like that from Dave, his best bro, and it took all of three minutes to get it out of Mr. Stoic Strider.

“We can redo it if you’d like,” Dirk responds, dulcet tones carrying clearly across the pathway to heat John’s face up in embarrassment. “Fulfill the tragic romcom going on in your head right now.”

Welp, John fucked up. This is it, this is worse than the doomed timeline. He’s going to have to retcon this one too. Dirk didn’t need anyone to talk to, and John got all spiffed up- yeah, a jacket and clean jeans, real fancy- to have a night out by the river with him. How fucking gay.

He shakes his head- snap out of it, Egbert, it’s not that deep- and stuffs his hand back in his pocket, curling and unfurling his fingers rhythmically.

“No point in doing it now,” John says, smile as weak as his joke, “Can’t make anything out of the pathetic ruins of this movie. Worse than _Shrek_.”

“First of all,” Dirk starts, quick and sharp, “stay in the same genre. _Shrek_ is both a masterpiece and very not a tragic romcom so it does not apply to this conversation.” He makes his way onto the bridge, crossing his arms on the balustrade running along the side.

“What do you mean _Shrek_ isn’t a tragic romcom?” John questions, walking up to stand beside Dirk. “Lord Farquaad meets his end after failing to work up the bravery to rescue the princess himself, it’s supposed to be funny, and the two ogres get it on in the end. Tragic romcom.”

Dirk snorts, taking his loss in stride. They go silent and look out at the water. John gets why this is the place Dirk goes to think; it’s beautiful. The river runs between the trees, and if you attempt to trail it through the foliage, your eyes happen upon Can Town, lit up like fireflies caught in a jar. Lights twinkle in the streets and windows- god, he didn’t know they were this far out. Dirk could kill him right now and John thinks he’d be okay with that.

“Thanks for coming out to talk,” Dirk says quietly, as to not disrupt the moment. “Everyone’s been worried about you.”

“I know,” John spits, bitter. He didn’t come out here to be lectured on answering his phone, and _getting out more, and asking for help where it’s needed_ . He’s _fine_.

“I know you know. I’m not going to tell you what to do,” Dirk says, calm as ever, like he can read John’s mind. “Everyone’s worried about you and you went with a stranger into the woods. So-”

“You’re not a stranger. You’re my best friend’s bro-dad-whatever.”

“I’m even more worried now that that’s come out of your mouth.”

“I thought I crossed the line at _Shrek_ not being a good tragic romcom,” John comments.

“Don’t remind me,” Dirk replies, pointing a finger at him.

They’re… very close, John realizes. He has to look down cross-eyed to see Dirk’s finger, and his shades could poke John’s eye out if he turns his head too quickly. His eyes are so bright, the moonlight reflecting off the water and making its way beneath those dumb, pointy shades. Orange, like tangerines and shitty medicine lollipops. And the sun in pictures from Hubble.

“This may be very sudden,” Dirk continues, lowering his hand, “but I do care about your wellbeing.”

“Woah, forward,” John jokes, nervous for some reason. His laugh is weak and watery.

“And as someone struggling with my own bouts of depression,” Dirk says, ignoring John’s interruption, “I wanted to reach out a hand. I give the same excuses when all I do is lay there and think about could’ve beens-”

“I’m fine,” John says, loud and frantic, almost. “Dirk, there is nothing wrong with me. Thanks for opening up to me about your depression or whatever, but it has nothing to do with me.”

“You’re tired,” Dirk says, searching John’s face for something. It makes him restless, itching to cover his face or just walk away from here. “You’re so tired you missed your friends’ birthdays and sent everyone away for your own.”

“I didn’t miss their birthdays. I sent cards,” John responds, defensive. Just because he’s depressed doesn’t mean he’s a shit friend. No, fuck, he’s not depressed, he’s-

“You never responded to their invitations,” Dirk disrupts his thoughts. “The only reason they had parties was to see if you’d come. All we did was sit in living rooms waiting for you to never show up. Of course they’re fucking worried about you, Egbert.”

It goes silent. John wrings his hands in his pockets, closing his eyes to take a deep breath.

Okay.

He’s been avoiding his friends. He missed his friends’ parties because he couldn’t stand them seeing him like… this. Pathetic, distressed, _depressed_. He couldn’t handle the thought of sitting in some office and telling someone that he misses his life when his father remembered him as his son, when his friends came to him for a laugh, that he misses not knowing the loss of an entire universe.

Okay. He’s more than tired.

“So what?” John questions, critical. Is he supposed to pay someone to pretend to care about him once he admits it? Go do some stupid art therapy shit? _My favorite color is blue and that’s obviously because I’m depressed._

“So, you can talk to me,” Dirk answers. He puts a hand on John’s shoulder, who tenses under his touch. Dirk’s hand falls. “You don’t have to hole yourself up or talk to anyone special. Just tell me everything you hate about your ceiling or something.”

“Will you psychoanalyze me like Rose does when I tell her I like peonies more than roses?”

“You like the shame flower?”

“Fuck you,” John says, but it comes out as a laugh, and Dirk smiles at him for it.

Their conversation dwindles as the night grows darker, the wind louder as it whistles lowly by them. With another awkward shoulder pat, Dirk sends John on his way back home after a promise to keep in touch more often, and John is left to stare at the same fucking crack in the ceiling that he has been for months, mulling over Dirk’s flushed cheeks and honest words.

 

☼

 

\-- timaeusTestified [TT] began pestering ectoBiologist [EB] --

TT: What are you doing tonight?

EB: um.

EB: i have some stuff to work on.

TT: Cool, we’re going to watch Shrek so you can realize its magnificence.

EB: dude, what the fuck. no. we’re not going to watch shrek.

EB: i have stuff to do. let me do my stuff.

TT: The stuff you need to do is sit your ass down on your couch and get comfy,

TT: Because if you keep it up we’re watching every Shrek movie there is.

TT: And I mean what I know as every Shrek movie there is.

EB: you’re the worst.

\-- ectoBiologist [EB] has ceased pestering timaeusTestified [TT] --

 

☾

 

“You clean up nice,” Dirk says when John opens the door later that night. John rolls his eyes, reaching up to hug Dirk on instinct. He has a moment of panic, not knowing if this level of physical contact is too intimate, or too overwhelming-

Dirk brings his arms up to John’s shoulders and squeezes him tight, tucking his face into John’s neck. He could probably combust right then, actually. John can feel Dirk’s breath on his neck, can feel his fingers rubbing shapes into his back, and he hasn’t been this close to a person in so long he might cry.

“I’m going to bust a duct all over you if you don’t stop,” John blurts out, arms going rigid around Dirk’s middle as he does.

“Why do you make talking sound like such an awful evolutionary achievement?” Dirk asks, leaning back to look at John with his brow furrowed. Which is great, because now their arms are locked around each other and they’re sort of looking into each other’s eyes and it’s so much gayer than spending the night on a bridge talking about feelings.

“It’s been a while, man,” John says, awkwardly patting Dirk’s back as he lets go.

Dirk lays a hand on John’s shoulder for a moment in understanding, before walking into the living room when John prompts him to.

“Thanks,” Dirk says, setting his bag down and slipping off his jacket to lay it carefully on the back of the couch. “We vampires like it when you make us feel welcome, you know.”

“Shut _up_ ,” John says, grin evident in his words as he shuts the door. Dirk’s already busying himself with taking his laptop out of his bag and hooking it up to John’s TV screen, the green face of America’s- no, the _world’s_ favorite ogre mockingly smiling at John from over the couch.

“Do you want popcorn?” John asks, already on his way to make some because who doesn’t eat popcorn during a movie? Uncultured people, that’s who. And John is a cultured movie-watcher.

“Nah,” Dirk replies from the other room, and John falters in his steps. “Gets stuck in my teeth and I’m not up for picking out kernels for three days.”

“What the fuck,” John deadpans loudly, standing alone in his kitchen. “Get out of my house? You’re eating popcorn or I’m not watching _Shrek_.”

He hears a sigh and a thump, which he wants to imagine is Dirk smacking his head off the coffee table. It’s followed by a curt “Fine.” which John happily accepts as friendly agreement and goes to whip up a steaming bag of popcorn.

They start the movie, classic hits and lines blasting through John’s speakers as the popcorn bowl goes barren and their hands grow halfway greasy from wiping the butter off on John’s sweats. (Fuck you, Dirk, just because you’re wearing jeans doesn’t mean you can’t wipe your hands off on them, _stop touching legs that aren’t yours, please_ ).

It’s so familiar, sitting in his living room and watching movies from his childhood, John loses his grip after a while. His head feels thick but airy, his limbs feel like lead as he drops them next to him. His brows furrow- there shouldn’t be this much thought put into the scene where Fiona first turns into an ogre in the presence of Shrek and Donkey, but here John is, mind clouded. He feels younger, more naive, like he could turn to his right and see his dad’s friendly face...

He chokes on his next breath, hand curling into the cushion- and around Dirk’s fingers, fuck, oh my god- the latter looks over, smirk disappearing once he sees the state John’s in. His shades are on top of his head and his eyes are full of worry, his other arm reaching out and John.

Blacks out.

Or, he wishes so. Instead he’s plagued with memories- the first time he watched Shrek in his living room at his dad’s feet, head bumping against his knees which must have been annoying. His father reading a newspaper above him, chuckling at the film appropriately and bopping the top of John’s head affectionately when his face got too scrunched up with confusion. He remembers discussing it over dinner that night and breakfast the next morning before dropping it completely. He remembers his dad taking time out of his schedule to watch Ghostbusters with him once he realized how horribly uninterested John was in the newest blockbuster movie, the glow-in-the-dark stickers he got for his room and new pyjama pants, almost like the ones he has now-

John chokes again and opens his eyes. The TV is off. He’s warm, his face is damp, and he’s resting against the arm of the couch. Solid. Moving? His couch is moving. His couch-

Is Dirk, that’s Dirk he’s resting against and nuzzling up to, oh god. John wrenches his shoulder away, looking up at Dirk’s face. His shades are on the table and a blanket is draped over John’s fram, his arms curled inward through it. The blond’s brows are furrowed, expression one of worry and surprise as his arms loosen from holding John to his chest. Throat closed tight, John shoves Dirk the rest of the way from around him, standing quickly. He can’t even say a word, just stumbles out of the room and up the stairs to his room before collapsing into bed.

His chest heaves and the tears flow. There is a loneliness he can’t describe buried deep in his chest, clawing its way out of his heart and sludging through his veins before burying itself deep in his bones. A life he used to know crawls over his skin and he feels so small, so helpless without the figure he used to look up to knocking on his door. Curled into a tight ball on his bed, John falls into a restless sleep, afflicted with the same images in his dreams.

 

☼

 

He awakes to muffled sounds downstairs; clanging and sizzling coming from what John assumes is the kitchen. His house is probably on fire. That’s fine. John is okay with that.

He guesses he should check it out, maybe. With a sigh he sits up, stretching out his cramped limbs and scrubbing a hand down his face. He’s a damn mess, he’s sure, but he can’t really find it in him to care. He groggily makes his way down the stairs, blanket wrapped around his shoulders and glasses- again, smudged to all hell- and to the kitchen.

Dirk is diligently tending to two pans and it smells delicious. The toaster pops up and John jumps.

“Morning,” Dirk says, picking up a plate by the stove to slide eggs onto it from one pan and bacon from another. He butters toast quicker than John can follow and before he knows it, Dirk is turning around with two plates in hand and a questioning look on his face. “You hungry?”

John’s stomach grumbles in response and with a tinge of embarrassment he agrees to sit down with Dirk at his extremely unused dining table after clearing off random papers and takeout boxes.

“You want to talk about what happened last night, or,” Dirk deadpans halfway through their meal, and John has to put his hands down on the table.

“You’re saying that like we had a one night stand,” John replies. His hands are curling into nervous fists, slowly making their way to his lap.

“We might as well have,” Dirk says, stabbing a fork into his bacon. “You shoved me away just as fast as a one-time lover would.”

“Shut up,” John says quickly, fists going straight to his legs. “I just… it was a lot, okay? I needed to be alone.”

“Being alone is what has you feeling like that,” Dirk says, setting his fork down. His elbows are planted on the table, chin resting on his entwined hands. “Being alone is what makes it so hard. This isn’t the first time something like that’s happened, is it?”

“Shut _up_ ,” John responds angrily. His breath is coming short. His face is hot. “I know what I need and what I don’t need. I know what’s wrong with me. I’m tired and I miss the world- the _actual_ world, not this stupid copy of it.”

“What do you miss?” Dirk asks, head tilted and back straight, raptly attentive.

“I miss my dad,” John says, faster than he means to. “I miss all his cakes and the smell of tobacco in the living room and the sound of shaving cream every morning.”

“And?”

“I miss the notes he’d leave me, everywhere, like he knew what I was going to do before I even had a chance to think about it. I miss watching movies together and homecooked meals. I miss his hugs, I miss when he’d stand outside his car after dropping me off from school. I was so embarrassed but he was so proud of me and he showed it so often.”

John stops, taking in a deep breath. He feels like he just ran an emotional marathon, his heart racing and eyes blinking rapidly.

“I know,” Dirk says, putting his hands out and open. “I get it, in a way. I never met my Bro but he left me all these things, right? Food and literature and reminders. I miss that brother I never really had but always looked up to.”

“God, and- fuck, the _universe_ ,” John continues. “You have no idea what it’s like to- to walk into a room and find the world obliterated at your feet and all around you. I saw my best friends die, I saw _you_ die right in front of me, accepting the failure and throwing yourself into the fucking void because of it.” His hands are in his hair now, combing through it with no pattern or rhythm, the strands sticking out randomly.

“I’m sorry,” Dirk says, hands curling as he breathes out & closes his eyes. “It’s not your fault- you know that, right?” He questions, slipping off his shades & looking up at John. “It wasn’t mine either- I’m sorry you had to see that. But we all played a part in the game and you- you saved us all, John. I don’t have a fucking clue what you’ve been through, but you won it all for us. It was you.”

John… doesn’t know how to handle this. He pulls on his hair until it hurts. “I watched my close, long-time friend get buried by her mother-daughter-sister-whatever and pressed reset. Just like that- like the deaths of everyone I had ever known were nothing. Like it was something I could get over with a few waves of my hand.”

“They’re here now,” Dirk murmurs. “They’re alive and safe- because of you. The game is over. You closed that door. We’re safe now.”

It goes silent. This seems to be a trend for them. Dirk reaches over to untangle John’s hands from his hair and lays them on the table. John, in turn, picks up his toast to dunk it in his eggs.

“You make good breakfasts,” he comments, stuffing the gooey bread in his mouth. “And good words. You know how to say them.”

Dirk smiles and picks up his fork again. “Thanks. Practiced a lot as a kid. Only person to talk to was myself, so my narcissistic ass never shut up.”

John laughs, his wrist flicking and flinging egg yolk onto Dirk’s face, which makes him snort. There is no consequential food fight- but there is the punishment of a Shrek rewatch, this time with director’s commentary.

 

☾

 

Dirk’s gone by nightfall. Mistake number one.

John can’t get the thought of Dirk out of his head. His shining, worried eyes, his hands combing through John’s hair in the most calming gestures he’s felt in _years_.

Mistake number two.

He falls into a pattern. Days spent mulling over how quickly Dirk came into John’s life and _stayed_ , how Dirk takes his shades off and smiles before giving John a hug every time he opens the front door.

How Dirk became his new rhythm.

The next time he remembers looking at his phone, he’s met with a dozen messages from Dirk over the course of a week. John’s reminded of what life was like before the blond came into it- blocking all of his friends & laying in bed all day. Who was he then? Who is he now?

He unlocks his phone.

\-- timaeusTestified [TT] began pestering ectoBiologist [EB] --

TT: Hey.

TT: Haven’t heard from you in a few days. Checking to make sure you’re alright.

\-- timaeusTestified [TT] ceased pestering ectoBiologist [EB] --

\--timaeusTestified [TT] began pestering ectoBiologist [EB] --

TT: I don’t want to crowd you but I’m a little worried.

TT: Movie night later?

\-- timaeusTestified [TT] ceased pestering ectoBiologist [EB] --

\-- timaeusTestified [TT] began pestering ectoBiologist [EB] --

TT: You didn’t respond to a movie night so I’m coming over.

TT: Open your door.

TT: John.

\-- timaeusTestified [TT] ceased pestering ectobiologist [EB] --

\-- timaeusTestified [TT] began pestering ectoBiologist [EB] --

TT: Your front porch sucks to sleep on.

TT: I’m coming back tonight.

\-- timaeusTestified [TT] ceased pestering ectoBiologist [EB] --

John sits straight up. That was from yesterday. He glances at the time- it’s 2am. Looking out his window he spots him, sure as day: Dirk sitting on the railing, anxiously tapping his foot on the floor below him.

\-- ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering timaeusTestified [TT] --

EB: back door’s unlocked.

\-- ectoBiologist [EB] ceased pestering timaeusTestified [TT] --

Before John’s even put his phone down, Dirk is darting around the house and John can hear the door open, feather-light footsteps making their way up the stairs and the slam of his door against the wall as Dirk bursts into his room.

“Fuck,” Dirk breathes, dropping his phone and coat as he stumbles to John’s bed. The latter stares at him, speechless. “I was so _scared_ , I thought...”

He coughs, ripping off his shades and putting them on John’s nightstand as he climbs into his bed and hugs him close. John’s never seen him exhibit so much raw emotion, he’s dumbfounded.

His phone slips from his hands as he reaches around Dirk, buries his face into his chest.

John’s world is spinning. He doesn’t know why the thought of making Dirk this upset makes him sick to his stomach. He doesn’t know why he’s holding onto Dirk so tight, dragging him down until he can’t tell where he ends and Dirk begins.

He doesn’t understand why he’s breathing so harshly, cradling Dirk’s head, wanting to make him safe & happy. He cares so much about this boy in his bed- but he’s _not_ gay. He can’t be, they’re best friends; like him and Dave! And those feelings were of friendship, too, he’s not gay, he never was.

His chest hurts and Dirk’s hands are at his cheeks, rubbing beneath his eyes and at his jaw soothingly, their foreheads are touching and John doesn’t want this, doesn’t want to tilt his head and feel how soft Dirk’s lips are, doesn’t want to stay like this where he’s safe and warm until he can’t feel his own body without Dirk’s beside him.

Dirk is wiping away tears. John is so utterly ashamed of himself.

“It’s okay,” Dirk says, rubbing John’s back with one hand and his neck with the other. “It’s okay, don’t be ashamed. You’re okay.”

“I can’t do this,” John cries. He’s been saying everything aloud, anyway. “I can’t feel this way, I can’t lose you again. It was easier before- I didn’t know you.” He sucks in a breath, clinging desperately to Dirk’s torso. “I can’t lose you again.”

“You won’t,” Dirk soothes. He gently pulls John towards him as he slips off the bed. “Come on, let’s get some air.”

John lets out a hysterical laugh, holding on tight as he stumbles out of his bed. They make their way to the balcony off his room, Dirk settling them on the rails.

Dirk still has an arm around John’s shoulders, his free hand rubbing up and down his arm. His head is on John’s shoulder and the tears are still falling, dropping down to the ground below.

“It’s okay, John,” Dirk says, lips moving against John’s temple, which. Shit. A shudder runs down his spine. “I’m not going to push you but _it’s okay_ , you can want things, it doesn’t make you a different person. You’re still the same old dorky John Egbert.”

John laughs pathetically, scrubbing at his face and leaning into Dirk’s embrace. He’s so scared. This is so new and terrifying but he has never felt safer.

“Being scared is normal, yo,” Dirk says, because god damn it John keeps talking out loud. “Especially if it means you do something that makes you happy. It’s worth it.”

“I need to stop thinking out loud,” John says, turning around in Dirk’s arms. John from their night on the bridge would shit himself, they’re so close. He could count Dirk’s eyelashes from here. There’s maybe 27 of them if he were to guess.

“You do, you’re saying some gay shit,” Dirk jokes, rubbing at the small of John’s back. He leans in to press their foreheads together again, skin routine be damned.

“Here’s something gayer,” John says, purposely aloud this time, and tilts his head to the side to press his lips to Dirk’s. The latter lets out of a noise of surprise, parting his lips to mould them perfectly to John’s, and he’s so glad neither of them are wearing their glasses.

They spend a moment exploring new territory, tongues mapping out each other’s mouths and man John is glad he brushed his teeth because he was bored or else this would be super awkward. Dirk tastes like orange soda and it’s kind of doing it for him. He could get used to this.

“I could get used to this,” John says, leaning back for a breath. He blinks, dazed, to see warm, dark eyes looking down at him in awe.

“Me too,” Dirk says, not letting another second go by before he presses his lips to John’s again, and again, under a bright green moon.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is greatly appreciated! Find me on tumblr @ testifyds ;3


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